Did that Christmas really suck?

(Sensitive content: The male protagonist is a bit abusive to his mother)

Shop——Heartfelt Soup

"Welcome, welcome, Merry Christmas Merry Christmas, welcome..."

The door buzzer sounded, and a young man who seemed to be in his twenties walked in.

“Hey man, nice to meet you, are you worried?

"To be honest, Christmas is coming, and few people have worries anymore. Every household is decorating Christmas with their families. It's so beautiful and warm." A middle-aged man came from behind the curtain with a cat in his arms. "

"Oh, are you not worried? Do you want to listen to my story?" The young man took out a bottle of whiskey, sat down, opened it, and poured it out. "

“Extremely honored”

After a glass of wine, the young man opened his thin lips and began his story.

"My mother is an inconspicuous woman in the countryside, and my father is a well-known businessman in the city. I don't know how they got together. I have lived with my father in the city since I can remember, they told me I have a mother, but I have never met her. Before I was twelve years old, I always wanted to meet my so-called mother. Finally, on Christmas of the year I was twelve years old, I got my wish.

My father sent me to the countryside and took me to my mother's side. To be honest, when I saw the dilapidated house, the chickens, ducks and geese running around and the excrement they left on the ground. There was a stench coming from the vaguely outline pig pen in the distance. My mother, who looked about 1.5 meters tall, had a hunched back, unkempt hair, and bumps on her clothes, frowned. I disliked this place, I thought. Escape from this disgusting place quickly. I pulled on my dad's trouser legs and begged him to take me away, but what I got was "I'll pick you up in the New Year."

Looking at the car gradually disappearing from my sight, I gave in. 1

Just like that, I settled in. Today is Christmas. Originally, I wanted to spend it with my mother and decorate it together. But when I saw the decoration in the house, the temper and too many grievances controlled by my father in the past few years completely exploded: "Look, Do you think this is a house that people can live in?" I walked to the bed and knocked on the mattress: "Stone! Can someone lie on the stone?" I walked to the stove again and asked, "Can this pot be used for cooking? ? Is the cooked food edible?" When have I ever lived in a house like this? I yelled at my mother who was standing stupidly at the door: "My dad is thirty-three this year, and you look like sixty-six! I have lived a life of fine clothes and fine food since I was a child. You live in such a disgusting house here?" Is she really my mother! How could I have a mother like you!"

After yelling, I regretted it. I silently found a place that didn't look so dirty and sat down to play with my phone, but there was no signal at all. I wanted to go out for a walk and accidentally discovered a lake and met several boys my age. We played with floating stones there and spent the afternoon like this. During this period, I knew that my mother had come to see me. She I shouted from a distance: "Master Reese, I'm going to buy a Christmas tree." But I didn't really want to pay attention.

Just like that, dusk is gradually approaching, and I want to go home quickly to see the Christmas tree full of green vitality. From a distance, I saw my mother holding a large piece of cloth and smiling. Dusk hit her face, and her white hair was sprinkled with golden light at this moment.

When I was stunned, my mother noticed me and turned around and entered the house. Soon, I saw the faint color coming from the window. I was very excited. I quickly ran to the door and looked up. Just this glance made me tremble all over.

I didn't have time to think, so I rushed to unplug it and threw the Christmas tree decorated by my mother at the door: "Why is it a blue Christmas tree? I want a green one! Green! Why is it blue? See for yourself who is using it now." Blue Christmas tree!”

I didn't know why before, but then I knew, I knew it all.

My mother walked up to me and wanted to touch me, but her outstretched hand stopped in mid-air. She turned around and went to the room. When she came out, she held a sweater in her hand and handed it to me. My eyebrows furrowed further as I looked at the sweater. I took the sweater away, looked at it again and again, and finally threw it on the ground in disgust: "You don't want to give me this as a Christmas gift, do you? You're here to make fun of me." Well, I just want to know, this sweater is so out of line, the sewing is crooked, and the pattern can’t be seen at all. Who is selling such an ugly sweater! And you, are you blind? If you buy something like this and give it back to me, I’ve really had enough!”

I angrily picked up the sweater and pulled it in front of her. Because the sewing was poor, the sweater instantly broke into two halves.

I stopped looking at my mother, picked up all my things, and ran over the blue Christmas tree to the entrance of the village.

What was I thinking at the time? Yes, I was thinking that my 12-year-old Christmas was ruined by that mother. This is the worst Christmas ever.

I made a phone call at the entrance of the village, forcing my father to pick me up as quickly as possible.

I got my wish.

When I heard my mother's voice again, it was the day before I turned 18 and received the news of her death.

I seemed to have grown up a lot in an instant, and I wanted to go back to that place.

The story officially begins.

Seeing that familiar yet unfamiliar house, my heart seemed to be weighed heavily. I stood in front of the door, looking up like I did when I was 12 years old. Just this glance made me tremble all over.

There are four Christmas trees in the house, three of them are blue, and only one is green. There is a sweater under every Christmas tree.

I stepped forward to touch the green Christmas tree, and a bright light forced me to close my eyes.

When I opened my eyes again, the laughter around me reached my ears. Are there a few pebbles on the clean lake? I looked down at my little hands.

I'm twelve years old again.

At this moment, my mother's voice sounded in my ears: "Master Reese, I'm going to buy a Christmas tree." I turned my head suddenly, but I couldn't see the figure of my mother again. He hurriedly chased after him.

Following my mother all the way, I saw her walk into a Christmas tree store. I hid at the door and eavesdropped on their conversation: "Hello, I want a green Christmas tree, how much does it cost."

green? Isn't it blue? Soon, I knew. I saw a store clerk bringing me a green Christmas tree, but my mother refused, "I want the green one, not the blue one."

The clerk was puzzled and didn't understand the blue that his mother was talking about, so he immediately brought a color card for her to choose: "We have green, red, yellow and blue Christmas trees, which one do you want?"

"My son likes green, give me green." I looked at my mother pointing her finger at blue, and I understood everything instantly. My mother had four-color disorder, or far less than that. The clerk had to bring a blue Christmas tree. When she saw "green", my mother was very happy. She took the Christmas tree and asked, "How much does it cost?"

It was a wallet wrapped in cloth. She tremblingly took out all the money and handed it to the clerk. But I was told that there was still three cents left. The mother's mood suddenly dropped, and she whispered: "This is all the money I have." This sentence was heard by the clerk, who smiled and apologized; "I'm sorry, you have just the right amount, but I made a mistake." ”

Hearing this, my mother was very happy and left with a smile and a Christmas tree. Hiding in the back, I had already burst into tears, but it was behind that that made me collapse.

I followed my mother all the way and watched her walking towards home step by step holding a heavy Christmas book, almost falling down several times. That thin back

Mother didn't stop for a moment when she got home and immediately started decorating the Christmas tree. When the whole room lit up with red, yellow, blue and green lights, I knew my mother had succeeded. It was also at this moment that the bright light reappeared, and I returned to the timeline where my mother had passed away.

All this left me in a daze. I looked around the room again and again, and my eyes fell on the sweater in the corner that I tore into two halves. My nose feels a little sore.

I went over and wanted to pick up the sweater. When my hand touched the sweater, the bright light forced me to close my eyes again.

I was twelve years old again. What I saw this time was that my mother was sitting at the door with a basket of unknown things after finishing working on the Christmas tree. I quietly walked along the edge behind my mother and found that it was a basket of needlework. I looked like It was because someone knocked on my brain that I suddenly woke up and a tear fell from the corner of my eye.

Why didn't I think about it at the time? How could there be a store selling sweaters like that? It turned out that this mother knitted them stitch by stitch.

This time I stopped looking, walked to my mother, and whispered: "Mom."

The word "Mom" seemed to open the key to go back, and I came back again.

But I haven't hugged my mother yet. I started trying to touch everything in the house. I wanted to go back. But all failed. When I felt like giving up, I thought of my mother looking at me at the door of our house every Christmas these years, waiting for the car to drive up. Every Christmas I buy a Christmas tree and put it at home. Every year she knitted a sweater that suited me based on how she imagined me to look like, until. . . . . .

People give gifts to each other on Christmas because God gave the most precious gift to the world - His only son, Jesus Christ. Therefore, people rejoice and express their love by giving gifts to each other in order to commemorate God's love. But at this moment, I believe that God has given me a gift that belongs to me since I was born.

It’s just that this gift seems to be despised by me, discarded by me, thrown away by me myself. There is no going back. "

At the end of the story, the middle-aged man was still stroking the cat and smiling.

The night is getting colder and the snow is falling...